


Technically Passing the Bechdel Test

by MeltyRum



Category: Durarara!!, VA-11 Hall-A (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyRum/pseuds/MeltyRum
Summary: I got my fics mixed up so the last one's description is actually more applicable to this one.
Relationships: Jill Stingray/Celty Sturluson
Kudos: 1
Collections: Boku no Hero Academia x Persona





	Technically Passing the Bechdel Test

Jill stared at the clock on her phone for a moment, trying to remember the last time she’d seen10:00 A.M. being displayed at the top of the screen. What with her job releasing her in the early morning, she pretty much always slept past it. It was practically still early morning anyway, so she probably wouldn’t even pick up. But this was the best time, she knew…

She punched the number in and put the phone to her ear.

“Jill?” came Alma’s voice.

“Hi, Alma.”

There was a slight pause, and Jill could _feel_ Alma checking her phone’s screen to make sure she was reading it right.

“What are you doing awake?” asked Alma. “Is something wrong?”

Jill smiled. “No, why?”

“You never wake up early for me! You basically won’t even let me come over during the day. You’re not in mortal danger or anything?” she asked, in a voice so lacking in urgency that Jill almost resented not being in mortal danger.

“No, no. I’m alone in my apartment and I’m perfectly safe. Listen, I’m only calling because it’s been hard to sleep; I’ve got a mad crush and I just need to talk it through with someone.” She was proud of herself for getting it all out at once.

“A crush, huh? That sounds pretty fun!” said Alma, her voice exhibiting a disturbing amount of excitement.

“Is now a bad time?” asked Jill, spooked from the voyeuristic pleasure in Alma’s voice and now half-hoping for a ‘yes, I’m busy’. “I know you’re at work,” she added.

“No, I can just take my break now. Give me a minute to get out of here,” said Alma, her line going momentarily quiet while Jill tried to control her silent seething at the generous privileges afforded to office worker elite of the world.

“Okay. Sorry about that,” said Alma, her voice returning crystal clear. “So—who is this person? Anyone I know? What do you like about them?”

Jill considered this barrage of questions, trying to figure out which to tackle first. “It’s this girl I met recently. One of my customers. She’s… nice,” she said lamely.

“‘Nice’?” Jill heard some brief muffled laughter from the other end of the phone, during which she tried her best not to feel self-conscious. “If ‘nice’ was all it took, wouldn’t you have a crush on me?”

“Of course, silly Alma. You already know that if you were gay I’d never let you go,” replied Jill, smiling.

“Okay, okay. You’ve sufficiently buttered me up. What’s going on?”

Jill nodded once—although Alma couldn’t see it—in order to buy herself a little time to organize her thoughts. “My customer, like I said; I’ll try to keep the story short, but she came by Valhalla once, and she was cool and friendly and we hit it off. A couple nights ago she came back, and… well, turns out I like her a lot. She’s hot, and nice, and funny, and _cool_ , and… hot?”

“Yes, you said that one already.”

“Sorry… I’ll leave out the finer details; I just want you to understand, she looks _great_. She is missing a head, though, apparently… I haven’t gotten to see it for myself, yet.”

As expected, there was a momentary beat of silence. “Hold on. I think I misheard you, because it sounded like you said she was headless.”

“Oh. Yep. Headless.”

There was a brief pause, as though Alma was measuring the cadence of the conversation thus far in an effort to determine whether or not Jill had been pulling her leg all along.

“Okay,” said Alma eventually, patiently. “I think I figured it out: she has a mutation quirk, or something. But you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Right, not yet. She keeps a bike helmet on; I think she’s sensitive about it… for good reason, if you believe the stories she has.” She paused momentarily, hoping that this wouldn’t count as a gross breach of confidence… since if Celty was sensitive about her quirk, she was likely sensitive about the knock-on results of it.

“Stories?”

“Yeah, it sounds like she’s had a really crazy life—did you know shelters turn people away with weird mutations like that? I couldn’t believe it.”

“Shelters?” asked Alma, something in the tone of her voice fraying and informing Jill that she was growing weary of asking prompting questions. “Okay—this must be the same person you texted me about. The one you brought home? Don’t tell me she’s…?”

“Yeah. She’s technically homeless right now. Despite that, she came back to the bar just to see me, and… she’s just so sweet and cool, you know—so I invited her to stay at my place. For a little while, at least. I brought her home Saturday, and we hung out on Sunday, but… she’s working today, which is why I was able to call.” She paused to look around the small apartment briefly, as though to make sure Celty wasn’t around. “Having her around is… exciting. It’s hard to sleep. At this rate, I might break into her luggage and start playing with her clothes,” she added, partly to make sure Alma was listening.

“Yikes! Don’t.” She gave Jill a weak chuckle before returning to the topic at hand. “The whole headless thing doesn’t bother you?”

“No, actually. I want to have four headless children with her. She can still hear and see and stuff—and I’m already learning sign language and everything, so it’ll all work out.” She did take pause after saying that, though. It wasn’t as though having a headless girlfriend wouldn’t present… challenges. How would Jill go about presenting that classic move—the I-am-obviously-attracted-to-you-but-too-bashful-to-say-it-so-now-I-will-kiss-you-and-hope-for-the-best—when Celty had no lips to kiss? It would take a bit of improvisation, to be sure.

“If you say so, Jill. From what you say, I’m sure she’s lovely—it’s just that it seems like a difficult thing to get past.”

Jill listened carefully, understanding from the tone of Alma’s voice that this concern did not necessarily come from the same place that had resulted in Celty being turned away from shelters, friends, family—whatever. And she could understand that. Being what someone might refer to—uncharitably—as a headless smoke creature wasn’t _nothing_ , no matter how you sliced it. But she was also confident that her feelings were real, and it wasn’t just some weird sense of desperate loneliness that attracted Jill to Celty.

“Anyway,” Alma continued, “how… _pure_ is this relationship so far? You said you brought her home and hung out, but if you’re thirsty enough to be staying up late dreaming about swimming in her clothes, it sort of sounds like you haven’t done anything with her yet. No dates, I’m guessing—nothing physical.”

“Well, no. But I’m trying to make my interest obvious… without being creepy. I feel like she’s receptive? She _seems_ to like me too, I mean, but I don’t know if it’s just, you know… I’m not exactly flirting, but I think I’m being obvious enough that she might leave if she wasn’t open to the idea. I mean, that’s what I would do.” She began to feel that subtle sickly, guilty feeling growing in her belly—the one that told her she was mostly just trying to convince herself.

“Sure,” said Alma, in that gentle tone of voice that one knew would be followed by something more stern. “Wouldn’t want to share a room with someone you don’t reciprocate that kind of interest in, but remember that she’s in a situation where she might still do it—being recently homeless, and all.”

“She left her last place because she felt like she was being a burden, I think, so I figure she would leave me if things were too weird for her… but these are all guesses.” Jill frowned, looking guiltily once again to the little heap of Celty’s belongings. “Maybe you’re right. Am I… taking _advantage_ of her? Like, ‘share the bed with me or else I’ll kick you out’? It sounds pretty scary, put that way.”

Alma was silent for a moment, but the silence only made Jill’s guilt grow.

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you how your crush is feeling,” said Alma. “And I’m _assuming_ you didn’t actually give her an ultimatum to share your bed, so I wouldn’t go so far as saying you’re taking advantage. But I feel like I need to ask outright: do you really want to know if this feeling goes both ways?”

Jill sighed, knowing what Alma was going to say to her answer. “Yes.”

“Alright. Jill, can I ask you something?”  
“Sure. You’ve been asking things all call.”

“Shut up! Why did you call me about this?”

“Huh?” Jill blinked, scrambling for an answer from the gathering alphabet soup of words that came to mind. “I just… felt like I needed to tell someone. Do you think I… shouldn’t ask her out or something?”

There was some poorly muffled derisive laughter from the other end of the line, followed by what sounded like a disappointed sigh. “No—the opposite. It sounds like you really like this girl. I was just making sure you weren’t calling me for permission. And I know you didn’t ask advice, either, but: just ask her to dinner, or something. And then tell me about it! I have to go, alright?”

“Right.” Jill turned to watch Fore sleeping on the bed, observing his breathing patterns for a moment as she considered the unwarranted advice that she was obviously going to take. “Thanks, Alma. Really.”

“Good luck! I’ll see you at the bar sometime this week,” Alma concluded, before the line went dead.

“Ah. She hung up before I could tell her,” Jill said to the air. If all went well and she and Celty really did start getting steamy with each other, someone was going to have to babysit Fore—and who better than Alma?


End file.
